


It Could Be Like That

by Ukthxbye



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Christmas, F/M, Mutual Pining, POV Molly Hooper, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pining, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Season/Series 04, References to Moriarty, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Slow Dancing, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 23:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16106084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ukthxbye/pseuds/Ukthxbye
Summary: One song keeps coming on the radio and it speaks to Molly and to Sherlock in the most painful ways.





	It Could Be Like That

**Author's Note:**

> The song for this fic is Little Mix's "Secret Love Song' which was released in December 2015. So fits right after series 3 before series 4 timeline.

 

Molly Hooper took a deep sip of her coffee as she approached her junior specialty registers for a morning briefing. 

 

“We need to get these processes started ASAP,” she advised, pointing at a list in an open folder on the table. “Get some new tissue samples for these experiments,” she said while she handed out a stack of folders, ”Hop to it, gang, long day ahead.”

 

She took another sip as she shifted to walk away and felt a tap on her shoulder and turned. A soft-spoken and smiling girl named Jessie stood, waiting. She looked shyly at Molly and asked,  “Is it alright if we play the radio today?”

 

Molly recalled she used to love having music in the background in the lab, but she found herself slipping into the need of silence more so as her mind raced through the day. But she knew she was alone in this and nodded with a slight smile, “That is fine; just keep the volume down a bit.”  

Jessie tuned it to a popular music station and went to work. Molly sat at a farther corner, with a stack of reports fanned out in front of her.

 

_ Might as well do this while I nurse my coffee. _ She rubbed the back of her neck absently, feeling the strain there despite her best attempts to loosen the muscle. The coming Christmas holidays used to delight her. But this year she can’t explain the gray feeling washing over her. Might be the fights she has with Tom on the regular now. Little small snips they make at each other instead of easy affection.

 

Or it could be Sherlock…  _ God, why is it him again in her head _ and she felt her teeth clench in her mouth. He almost went away forever after killing that awful man, which oddly brought her relief and then heartbreak all at once. She had felt no peace of mind since he returned from his faked death. That day solving crimes with him and he kissed her cheek. Then Jim Moriarty showed up, or videos of him anyway.  _ But he is dead right?  _ Maybe it was just that looming threat that took the edge of joy from her or so she hoped. It’s the excuse she is going to use for now. 

 

Sherlock assured her he will get to the bottom of this mystery but not to worry. He will make sure she is safe, that he will keep everyone safe. He went over everything and listened to her recently at 221b to address any concerns. But as always with them, it’s never everything they are thinking. Pieces of the puzzle, touching but never with the connecting pieces. 

 

_ Setting down his tea, he gave a faint smile to her as she sipped hers. “Molly, I do love discussion about interesting medical anomalies you’ve found but I think we need to have a more important conversation.” _

 

_ She dropped her eyes to her cup, following the pattern of the steam as it rose back and then back down to the surface of the tea to calm her nerves, taking a deep breath through her nose to grasp at its scent of black tea and lemon mingling. “Sherlock I am fine, really,” she started suddenly, giving a tight smile to convince him and her both. _

 

_ Sherlock furrowed his brow, folding his hands into his lap from their place on the armrests,  “Yes of course but with the possible, well, of course, it's not actually possible, but at least the implied return of Moriarty for whatever aim,” he paused dropping his hands to his lap, looking at her and softening his tone, “I assume you have concerns.” _

 

_ “Well,” she half laughed and shifted awkwardly in John’s chair as she looked down at her lap and tea again and then back up.  “Should I? I guess we all should really and we don’t know who it is, right? So that makes it complicated.” _

 

_ “Yes. Please do not hesitate to contact me… he paused and quickly added “or John or Lestrade if anything makes you suspicious. Nothing is too trivial or minor.” _

 

_ She turned her eyes down to set her tea on the side table. Her hands were free to fidget now, and she picked at her cuticles absently. She knew he was watching, deducing and she imagined he only thought it nerves about the subject at hand. Not the hopes she thought long dead bubbling to the surface threatening all her precarious contentment. _

 

_ “He made the mistake of believing you did not matter. I cannot be confident this error will be repeated,” Sherlock said in a low voice, with an edge of anger that faded to something like warmth. “Your importance is more conspicuous and understood now.” _

 

_ She glanced up from her lap and was fixed by his stare. The look of deep worry, folding his brow as his sharp blue eyes held hers, disconcerting and dangerous to her nerve. They held that stare between them much too long as they always did. Just friends are not supposed to do this and she knew this. Maybe he doesn’t know it, she thought, but he has to and that possibility was disquieting.  But nothing could prepare her for the shock as he shifted, leaned forward from his chair, kneeling before her and took her hands in his. She sucked in her breath quick, held it tight in her chest until her lungs burned and she sighed it out trembling lips.  _

 

_ “I promise, Molly. You will be safe and sound,” he said in a near whisper, eyes fixed on their hands together.  _

 

_ She recorded every thread in his fingers in her mind as he pulled his hands away slowly, leaning back. Why so slowly, she thought as the last tips of his fingers left hers and he stood suddenly and went to the window. He put his hands in his pockets and stared outside for a few breaths.  _

 

_ She felt a tear or two fall but did not wipe them away.  _

 

_ “Sherlock…” she breathed out softly. _

 

_ “Rosie will be safe. Everyone will be safe. Trust me,” he insisted, his head turned back to her with the same determination on his face she had seen so many times before. _

 

_ She smiled in a bittersweet way, thinking about Rosie for a moment “What kind of godparents would we be if we didn’t keep that promise, right?” _

 

_ He smirked back at her and turned to look back out the window once more,  “There is a Christmas party Lestrade and his division are throwing. I was wondering if you were invited as well? _

 

_ “Yes, they seemed to invite everyone who helped this year,” she sighed as she stood and grabbed her scarf, wrapping it slowly as she glanced back at him, standing tall at the window, half looking out it. At nothing she is sure but she’d never dared call him out on it. It's safer for them both really when she thought about it later. He knows how to protect himself.  _

 

_ “Tom will be attending with you?” he asked absently.  _

 

_ She swallowed hard. “Um yes, he is coming with far as I know right now,” she answered even more absently.  _

 

_ She watched his eyes narrow at the corner and regrets that her tone might have been more revealing than she intended. But she thought he likely would delete whatever deduction he made anyway.  _

 

_ “Good, yes, that makes it easier to keep an eye on everyone,” he spoke in as business-like tone as he has had so far. _

 

_ She knew this was her cue that whatever intimacy shared, that connection was now cut off again. If she had the energy and the pluck, she might have confronted him about it. But weariness settles in her bones and with it, she gives a quick “see you later” and slipped out the door before she could wait for a painfully curt reply. _

 

Her mind studied this recent memory. It fogged her thoughts, and she forced herself to push them away to focus on her reports again.

 

“And we got a new single from Little Mix climbing up the charts. Here’s it is, Secret Love Song” the radio announcer said cheerily.

 

She sighed in relief for a moment;  _ their songs are always so fun. Maybe this will help. _

 

But her relief collapsed into distress. The tune was neutral but the words an invasion. She sat frozen in place as the lyrics smashed into every last wall her mind built. 

_ We keep behind closed doors _ __  
_ Every time I see you, I die a little more _ __  
_ Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls _ _  
_ __ It'll never be enough

 

_ It's obvious you're meant for me _ __  
_ Every piece of you, it just fits perfectly _ __  
_ Every second, every thought, I'm in so deep _ _  
_ __ But I'll never show it on my face

 

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a moment. The music was low in volume, but she couldn't hear anything else in the lab. Every beep and bit of chatter faded. Her eyes opened again, staring at the same sentence on the report in front of her as the chorus tore a little more out of that wall she haphazardly set up for herself. She could have written every word of this song. 

 

_ But we know this, we got a love that is hopeless _ __  
  


There it is, her gray cloud, that hopelessness put into words and being played while the world just carried on. She felt the ache in her chest creep in as her breath shallowed. __  
  


_ Why can't you hold me in the street? _ __  
_ Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor? _ __  
_ I wish that it could be like that _ _  
_ __ Why can't we be like that? Cause I'm yours

 

“Damn him,” she shuddered under her breath as she rushed to her office before the tears could fall. 

 

-:-

 

Sherlock Holmes sat near the window in a Bethnal Green cafe. The sun was casting enough reflection that no one can easily look in at normal angles. Perfect for observation for this current case. He paid enough of a sum that the owner told him to stay as long as he wanted long as no violence broke out in the cafe. Sherlock advised it would not. If it did, he’d just pay for it as he has before. Or his brother could handle it. Small issues that he quickly deleted.

 

He let his mind slip into other deductions to keep from being bored waiting for the subject to come into the area and view. His thoughts turned to Mary and then John and then... Molly. For some reason, as he stared out the window, his mind lingered there in the room with all his knowledge of her. He recalled how she saved his life in his mind with that gunshot and in actuality after the fall. He dismissed one part of his mind that told him to move on to relevant deductions, giving the excuse of looking for weaknesses in his plans to keep her safe and sound as he promised. 

 

Moriarty missed it and he did not. Or had he? These thoughts he found odd to be persisting on now. Before he realized it, the music in the shop, some inane tragic pop song, had worked its way into his thoughts as he sat in her room in his mind cataloging details.  

__  
_ Would you leave if I was ready to settle down? _ _  
_ __ Or would you play it safe and stay?

 

His mind flashed up an image of her sitting there at 221b a week ago; to her tone about Tom.  _ Why was that not deleted? _  Sherlock was only unobservant in these matters when he desired to be so.  _ So why keep record of her tone? _ They were failing as a couple; this he knew from her slip. None of the excitement, none of the rambling she gave him at the bottom of those stairs when he tested her.  _  It’s just a matter of time now, _ he thought. No wedding date was set or hinted at. 

 

But back to 221b, in the quiet, as he strained to reassure her, not sure if the cloud hanging over her was fear or regret. Her hands, rough in places like all medical professionals and he noticed every thread in her fingers as he hesitated to loosen his grip in spite of himself. Every curve fit into his so perfectly it shocked him. And he recorded it, a pure snapshot he could recall in his mind. How her hands felt in his; its ghost threatened his mission today.

 

_ Girl you know this, we got a love that is hopeless. _

 

For a moment a regretful wish ran across his thoughts. Contrition at the impossibility of such yearnings because who he is and...sentiment is a defect right? Yet he finds cracks in that theory opening to a chasm when he thinks of John and Mary and Rosie...and Molly. 

 

_ Why can't I say that I'm in love? _ __  
_ I wanna shout it from the rooftops _ __  
_ I wish that it could be like that _ _  
_ __ Why can't we be like that? Cause I'm yours

  
  


_ Accurate to an annoying and painful degree,  _ he thought. And promptly shook it away, deleted this song and all his musings, focused on the moment.

 

-:-

 

She and Tom arrived a bit late for the Christmas party. It was at a small club and already crowded. They dropped off their coats at the front and worked their way in. Molly stopped and spoke to anyone she knew and Tom was the ever patient fiance with introductions and conversations he could mostly only observe. 

 

She scanned the room at every chance, looking for someone she should not seek so eagerly. He didn't deserve the attention nor did Tom deserve the disregard. But she knew she would hunt for him in the room anyway. 

 

She smoothed the sequins on her dress. It’s the one from many Christmases ago. She could not decide on a dress and Tom insisted because he had not seen her in it. He grabbed it from the back of the cupboard and whistled. Then he pleaded playfully. She didn’t have the courage to tell him why it sat deep away from sight. His eyes feasted on her once she revealed the completed look and she felt sick of her stomach at the contrasts of memories. But her face nor her lips as he captured them betrayed anything to him. 

 

Her eyes landed on their ambition. Black suit and shirt, he was hidden in shadows in the darkened club. He never was one for festive dress and contrasts all the more with the jumpers and sparkling dresses around him. Her feet moved instinctively in his direction, and only Tom’s hand stopped her as he pulled her back.

 

“Hey darling, let’s dance. We’ve talked to a million people. We never get to dance anymore. Let’s take the chance” he grinned. 

 

She turned her head to him, putting on a matching soft practiced grin. 

 

He pulled her into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and began to lead her away in dance to the floor. For a moment she tried to soak in his affection and heartbeat as she laid her head on his chest and Tom closed his eyes.

 

Then fate decided she needed a kick in her gut that still ached. There is that song again. She felt him hold her tighter as they swayed and turned. 

 

But her eyes stray to Sherlock only a few feet away. In his natural state of mobile in hand, typing away, head down. Framed by haphazardly hung fairy lights, mixed with club lighting changing from red to green to blue. 

 

_ Why can't you hold me in the street? _ __  
_ Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor? _ _  
_ __ I wish that it could be like that

_ Why can’t it be like that? _

 

His eyes strayed up and locked with hers. She expected him to look away so she soaked in his stare. But soon they both realized they were lost in the fixation, neither able or wanting to look away. Her eyes threatened to open up a flood she cannot answer for yet. His gulp was too obvious and he perceived it too late. His thoughts threatened every composure and hers reflected in her eyes as the lyrics dug it all to the surface. The awareness was brief, only one verse of the song but much too long for safety. With a turn of Sherlock’s head, the spell was broken and he rushed away. With Sherlock gone, she sensed that undeniably empty and cold feeling inside. She hugged Tom closer to try and recapture some warmth as the song ended.

  
  


_ Why can't we be like that? _ _  
_ _ Wish we could be like that _

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that hurt...but hope you liked it anyway.


End file.
